


Rubbing In, Rubbing Out

by skivvysupreme



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M, Phone Sex, Sleepovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-19
Updated: 2016-02-19
Packaged: 2018-05-21 14:06:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6054421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skivvysupreme/pseuds/skivvysupreme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Kurt determinedly ignores the way his phone keeps vibrating in his pajama shirt’s breast pocket, because he’s about two sexts away from becoming indecent in the front of his loose silk pants."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rubbing In, Rubbing Out

**Author's Note:**

> Written for januarium, a ficlet winner in my “Yay 1,000 Followers” giveaway on Tumblr! <3
> 
> Prompts: "something that features some of the glee girls" or "phone sex" 
> 
> SO HERE'S BOTH! :D

Kurt is going to have a Very Serious Talk with Blaine about sleepover etiquette. He will. He swears.

He’s rubbing a creamy, pale blue mask onto Tina’s face and trying to focus on the girls’ conversation around him where they’re all piled onto Mercedes’ bed. Kurt determinedly ignores the way his phone keeps vibrating in his pajama shirt’s breast pocket, because he’s about two sexts away from becoming indecent in the front of his loose silk pants. He’s just thankful that the mask on his own face is covering his flushed skin, though he knows his flaming ears would give him away if the girls’ focus wasn’t on each other at the moment.

“For real, you were the star of that whole set,” Mercedes says, shaking her head and swatting playfully at Unique’s knee. Tina makes a noise of agreement, keeping her eyes closed while Kurt works. “I know I wouldn’t have been mad, if we’d lost to you.”

Unique laughs, putting her adorable dimples on display, and looks down at her toes, carefully applying another coat of ruby-red nail polish. “Well, _I_ would have been mad. Any time you’ve lost anything, Mercedes Jones, you have been _robbed_.”

Kurt’s phone vibrates again, just as he’s finished applying Tina’s mask. He keeps his face carefully neutral while he wipes his fingers on a paper towel, then takes a deep, calming breath and swipes open the text thread. He can do this.

**Of all the nights to be apart we picked a night when my parents aren’t home :/**

**Miss you :***

**I guess I’ll have to enjoy myself without you…**

**Good thing I get to be as loud as I want tonight**

**Sometimes I think about you fucking me when my parents are here. I’m trying to be good and quiet but you’re taking me apart, fucking me so well and making me come so hard that I scream because I can’t help it and then they know**

**I want everyone to know how you make me feel, I love you so much**

**Touching mysefl but its not enoug h, not you**

**I need you**

Oh. No, he can’t do this, actually.

Kurt quickly and discreetly hides his phone at his side, but he can’t fight the low, strangled groan he makes as he slides his eyes shut.

“Kurt? What’s wrong?”

“It’s, um, the mask, it’s burning a little, I need to get off—get _the mask_ off, excuse me—”

“It’s going to start burning?” Tina asks, reaching for the paper towels as though she’s going to wipe away the product on her face right then and there.

“No, I—I just have very sensitive skin, I’ll be right back!” Kurt all but _runs_ down the hallway to the bathroom, pressing the call button as soon as he leaves Mercedes’ room.

Blaine answers with a ragged, slightly distant, “ _Hello?”_ when Kurt locks the bathroom door behind himself.

“Blaine Anderson, you—you are in so much trouble.”

_“Are you alone?”_

“Yes.”

_“Are we doing this?”_

Kurt turns on the faucet and pulls at the drawstring on his pajama pants. He knows this isn't something he should be doing in Mercedes’ bathroom, in her _house_ , but if he hadn't left the bedroom he would have embarrassed himself, and if he doesn't get relief he won't be able to face them at all—and Blaine refuses to be ignored, and there are _wet sounds_ on the other end of the line—

He squirts some lotion from the sink counter onto his free hand. Yes, they are doing this, screw it— “Baby, do you know when you get the loudest?”

He can hear the smile in Blaine's voice when he answers, _“When you're inside me.”_

“Nope. It's when I'm blowing you. When you're inside _me,_ stuffing my mouth full.”

 _“Oh god.”_ The wet noises get louder and slicker and Kurt knows Blaine has moved his lubed-up fingers from his ass to his cock. _“Wish you were here right now. I'd hold you and pet your hair and f-fuck your mouth the way you like it.”_

Kurt pushes down his pants and takes himself in hand, moaning at the thought of it—he does love that, loves being able to trust and let go and feel cared for and _cherished_ the way Blaine makes him feel. “I'd be on my knees, your parents would be down the hall, and you'd—”

Someone knocks on the bathroom door. “Hey, Kurt, are you okay? Did the mask come off all right?”

He groans—frustration, surprise, arousal, he doesn't know—and backs away from the counter, moving to the farthest wall from the door as quietly as he can with his pants halfway down his thighs.

“Is something wrong?”

_“Is that Mercedes?”_

“No!” Kurt calls back, then much more quietly, “Yes, shush.”

“Then hurry up! Tina wants to wash off her mask and I have to pee!”

Blaine’s whining in his ear. _“But—I’m so close, I just—Kurt, your lips always look so good around my dick—fuck, I can see you so clearly, your cheeks are all red and I'm stretching your mouth and you're just letting me, just fucking taking it, oh—”_

Kurt’s cock throbs in his sticky hand as he imagines it, Blaine holding his head steady with firm but gentle fingers, pumping in and out, filling him, making him breathe so hard through his nose because there’s no other option—He strokes himself faster, unable to stop himself, though he knows he should have put the brakes on this the first time Mercedes knocked. But—he’s so close, they’re _so close_ , and Blaine is getting louder and louder now, in his empty home, jerking himself off with increasingly wetter noises and moaning into the phone with abandon—

“You haven't gotten in there yet? Damn, I was waiting for you so I could go…”

“Go ahead and use the one in my parents’ room, they won’t mind. KURT, HURRY UP!”

“I need to wash my face!”

_“Unh—Kurt, I’m—come on, baby, please, please…oh, oh fuck—”_

And then Blaine comes, _wailing_ in Kurt’s ear and chanting, _“Fuck, fuck—I, I love you, you’re so fucking hot…”_

Kurt whimpers, glancing at himself in the mirror; he looks ridiculous with his hard, red cock hanging out of his expensive silk pajamas, rocking into his hand and holding his phone up to his ear with the other, his face still covered by the mask—

 _“Baby, I’d—I’d just come all over your face if you were here, if you’d let me—_ ”

And the blue cream on his face looks nothing like cum, but it’s just enough—

Kurt turns his head away from the mirror and bites into his sleeve to muffle his strangled moan as he comes all over his hand, dripping and spurting a little onto the tile floor.

“Ugh, I’ll just use the other one, too! Boy, you have sixty seconds to finish your skincare routine or whatever the hell it is you’re doing before we bust in there!”

“I’ll—” Kurt clears his throat, trying to steady his shaky voice, and tries again. “Sorry, I’ll be right out!” He waits for Mercedes’ stomping to fade before he lifts the phone to his ear again and sighs, “You… you are going to pay for this.”

Blaine’s sated, drowsy voice puts a smile on Kurt’s face, despite how indignant he’s trying to be. “I look forward to it. Love you, Kurt. Have fun.”

“I love you, too. _Goodnight_ , Blaine _._ ”

Clean-up is quick—Kurt knows Mercedes better than most and he knows that she _will_ bust that door down if he pushes her to it—and he’s much less delicate than usual as he frantically washes the mask off his face. He takes a deep breath and pulls his expression into something nonchalant as he opens the door—

—only to find Tina still standing there, her eyebrows raised above a very sweet-looking, concerned smile. “Oh, Kurt, I see what you mean, you do have really sensitive skin. You’re all red.”

“Yes, well—that’s why my skincare regimen is so… complex.” They trade places, Kurt stepping out into the hallway as Tina goes into the bathroom to wash her face.

“It _must_ be really complex, I mean, all that time in here and you still missed a spot.”

Kurt pokes his head through the doorway to look at his face in the mirror. “What? No, I didn’t—”

“Down there,” Tina replies, pointing to the splotch of cum that’s drying on the thigh of his pajama pants. “How’s Blaine?”

Kurt turns, if possible, even redder, as Tina pulls him back into the bathroom and hands him a washcloth, giggling, “I have a boyfriend too, I won’t tell. Now, spill.”

 


End file.
